Evaine slept so soundly that she didn’t hear Gamaliel get up from the bedroll and creep into the woods at first light. He was back after only a short time, carrying another enormous fish and a fat quail. Evaine was still sound asleep, so the cat padded over to her, purring loudly in her ear. She awoke with a start, but was pleased to see her companion. Sitting up, she hugged him around the neck and got a wet face from his muzzle. He was still damp from fishing, and it was then she noticed the fish and the quail.
She laughed. “You certainly are efficient, Gamaliel. This is the closest thing to breakfast in bed that I’ve had in a long time. But I suppose we should get moving.”
Some of us are early risers, Evaine. We don’t waste the whole day sleeping late. The cat’s green eyes sparkled. Gamaliel couldn’t resist putting on airs at every opportunity. He and his mistress both knew the sun was barely up.
Evaine was used to his attitude, and didn’t mind his feigned arrogance. “You and those green eyes. I always know what you’re up to. When you’re mad or upset, your eyes turn golden. But when you’ve just stuffed yourself with fish or had a fun romp in the woods, they’re greener than any emeralds.” After all the years she had spent with the cat, this singular feature still amazed her.
The sorceress patted the cat’s head, stretched, and crawled from her bedroll. She built up the fire, cleaned the quail, and put it over the fire to roast. Gamaliel had learned long ago that poultry cooked quickly, and he knew to hunt for it when time was short.
While the bird cooked, Evaine brushed her long hair and braided it. Then she shook out the blankets and rolled them up. Gamaliel finished his fish, then scattered their remaining firewood with his great paws. Their gear was nearly packed by the time the quail was ready to eat.
Evaine gulped her breakfast. While she cleaned up, Gamaliel amused himself by pouncing on dry leaves blown by the wind. The sorceress chuckled at his antics. She always marveled at his grace despite his huge size. And she always laughed at his playfulness. Despite his intelligence and attitude, he could romp like a kitten when he wanted to.
With their belongings packed and the campsite clean, Evaine again walked the perimeter of the clearing, this time disarming the magical ward. Always careful, the sorceress left nothing to chance. Gamaliel followed her, obliterating her footprints efficiently with his claws. Then the pair set off in the direction of Phlan.
The forest was thick, and the only paths through the trees were those made by animals. Gamaliel led the way, finding the easiest route through the undergrowth. It was slow going. But even with the goblins and other monsters that stalked the woods, it was still safer than taking a major road. A single female traveler, even one with a big cat, was an easy mark for bandits and other troublemakers. Though Evaine could take care of herself with her magic, she didn’t wish to attract attention or tangle with the wrong enemy. She had serious business ahead, and she would need all her strength and energy for her upcoming mission.
Evaine and Gamaliel traveled until the sun reached its zenith—or what they assumed to be the sun’s zenith. The clouds that covered the countryside for months had obscured the sun, allowing only a grimy, gray light to filter through. As Gamaliel hunted, Evaine made a lunch of dried fruit and some young roots she dug in the undergrowth. They couldn’t afford to waste time. The early darkness in the evenings had already delayed them too much, since they couldn’t travel very far in one day. They rested only as long as necessary, then moved on.
As the pair trudged through the dismal woods, Evaine used the time to plan her strategy against the pool of darkness. She had already cleansed four pools over the last two years. Although these encounters gave her important knowledge about the evil magic of these waters, each pool was different. There was no guarantee that any of the cleansing rituals she knew would work on any one specific pool.
The intellectual and magical challenge of destroying these pools outweighed her fear of them. Evaine was not one for taking risks, but the sorceress fully accepted the possibility that each pool might lead to her demise. But her hatred of these foul waters ran deep, and she always took every possible precaution.
Time moved quickly for Evaine, lost in her planning. Only a few hours wore past before the sky began to darken. When it was too dark to go any farther, Gamaliel left Evaine’s side to roam ahead, looking for enough of a clearing to roll out the blankets and build a fire safely. In less than half an hour, he returned and led the way to a small, grassy patch beneath some young aspen trees.
“Great spot, Gamaliel. It even looks reasonably comfortable. I’ll start setting up, and you can look for water.” The cat rubbed against her leg, his great weight nearly knocking her off her feet, before bounding off into the trees.
The pair went about the routine of setting up camp. After Evaine studied her spells, the sorceress and her cat turned in early.
They had been fortunate not to encounter any monsters during the day. Evaine hadn’t needed any of her spells, and that meant only a short session with her spellbook that evening. She needed to wake up early in the morning to cast the magic that would help her locate the next pool. The sooner she was asleep, the better. Gamaliel had instructions to wake her before dawn. Both were sound asleep only moments after curling up.
Evaine awoke in darkness. Gamaliel was tucked in a ball at her side, the blankets tangled around him. The sorceress shivered in the chilly, damp air. Squinting through the trees, she searched for a sign of the dawn. The sky was completely dark.
Evaine shifted the sleeping cat, then burrowed into the bedroll. She dozed off snuggling against the warm feline.
The sorceress woke again after about an hour. The sky had lightened slightly. Evaine knew that dawn was not far off. She slid out of the blankets and, using dry pine branches, coaxed the coals of the campfire into a blaze. Then she crawled back into the bedroll. She had stoked up a huge blaze, the flames leaping over four feet in the air. Now she waited until the wood burned down to hot embers.
While the fire roared, Evaine closed her eyes and prepared her mind for the spell she was about to cast. It was a taxing incantation that required all her concentration and energy. She preferred casting it early in the morning, when her mind was fresh and the world was still sleepy. The energy of thousands of busy humans across the continent could sometimes interfere with this type of magic. This wasn’t a simple fireball or teleportation spell.
No, the sorceress was preparing to cast a specialized type of scrying magic that would allow her to locate the pool of darkness in Phlan. She knew of no other sorceress who was capable of casting the spell. It had taken her years of experimentation to perfect the technique. She had survived many near-disasters in the process, including losing her familiar, the barn owl. That loss and her grief had set her back several months, but this scrying spell and the missions it allowed her to complete were too important to abandon.
Evaine breathed deeply. She opened her eyes to check the fire, then returned to the process of cleansing her mind and focusing her thoughts. She began to whisper a chant that was as old as magic itself, a chant she had been taught as an apprentice. It was the first thing revealed to apprentices, to teach them to clear their minds of distraction and focus their attention. Used by a practiced, talented sorceress, the verses allowed the most powerful of magics to be summoned.
Evaine continued the chant until the fire was ready. Still murmuring the language of the chant, she arose slowly and began to rake the coals into a circle. When the embers were ready, she repeated two more verses of the chant, then cast the spell.
Gamaliel had awakened. He lay motionless, not twitching so much as a whisker. The light from the coals reflected in his green eyes. He had seen Evaine cast this spell before, and he understood the danger inherent in the amount of energy she channeled. He had once made the mistake of disturbing her during the casting of the spell. Fortunately for both of them, the error happened before Evaine had made the connection with the pool she was seeking. Had the incid
ent occurred any later, she might have been rendered permanently insane. Only through her exceptional willpower was she able to disperse the spell’s energy and escape without harm. She lay in bed for two weeks after that incident, slipping in and out of consciousness. Gamaliel had learned a valuable lesson. Against the very nature of his feline psyche, the cat had learned self-control.
Now Gamaliel lay on the bedroll, silent and unmoving, his eyes following Evaine’s movements. He watched as she circled the hot coals, first to the right, then to the left. She paused, began a new chant, sprinkled purified white sand into the fire, and circled the embers three times. She stopped again and dropped onto the coals the golden feather of a couatl, donated to her willingly by the magical winged serpent. She circled three more times. Next it was the blood of a red dragon followed by seawater, each followed by three trips around the fire-pit. She now cast icons representing the four elements— earth, air, fire, and water—into the coals. At last the fire was purified and she could begin.
For the next hour, Evaine added mystical elements to the coals, stirred them and divided them according to a precise ritual, whispering, murmuring, and shouting arcane passages. Gamaliel barely moved a muscle on the bedroll. All his senses were completely alert to any motion, sound, or scent in the trees. He would allow nothing to disturb his mistress.
After an hour of spellcasting, Evaine dropped to her knees next to the fire. She drew from a pocket a crystal of quartz, one of the earth’s purest substances. The crystal was easily as big as her palm. She laid it carefully on a forked stick, then gently deposited the crystal in the center of the coals. She uttered another series of incantations, then drew the crystal from the fire with the branch. It was hot, but not hot enough to alter the crystalline structure.
Evaine carefully sat cross-legged and laid a padded cloth in her lap. She placed the crystal on the pad and fell silent. With her elbows on her knees and her head cupped in her hands, Evaine began to concentrate.
In her mind, the sorceress saw herself seated near the coals. Her other self began to rise in the air, and from above she saw her corporeal form, Gamaliel, and the clearing beneath her. She rose more and more rapidly, then her mind began to fly at breakneck speed over the tops of the trees. The countryside became a blur. Her mind was led by the power of the pool. Allowing one’s mind to be carried along by a force of evil was a terrifying prospect, but Evaine’s discipline and mental focus kept her in control.
The next thing Evaine knew, her mental image was whizzing through clouds. Then she found herself plummeting toward the earth, toward a large and unfamiliar body of water. Crude tents were set up around the perimeter of the bay, but Evaine’s image was falling too fast for her to be able to identify any landmarks. Something was terribly wrong. The last time she had checked on the pool, it had been sequestered in an underground cave. Her breathing became rapid. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she struggled to maintain control, pushing away panic.
Evaine’s mental projection broke the surface of the water, plunging through the deepest part of the bay. What she saw startled and puzzled her. The bottom of the sea was completely barren of plants and aquatic life. She saw no weeds, no water grasses, no fish, no turtles. All around her was nothing but a water-filled crater, as if the hole had been dug by some inexplicable force and filled in with water. She was completely confused by what she saw. And there was no sign of the evil pool.
Evaine forced her mind to rise to the surface of the bay and break free of the water. Her view changed as she escaped the depths of the water and was able to survey the surrounding countryside. From her previous magical observations of Phlan, this certainly looked familiar. She had practically memorized the roll of the distant hills and the farms that surrounded the Moonsea. She knew that Phlan was supposed to be in this vicinity, but where was it? Had her spell gone wrong?
At that instant, the quartz crystal in Evaine’s lap shattered.
Unpleasant Surprises
After leaving the dwarves, Ren stopped in a tiny hamlet for a few supplies, then turned toward the Stojanow River. There were plenty of roads that led to Phlan, but all wound through the mountains, and although the routes were good, they took at least three days longer than the route Ren had planned.
He had traveled along the river many times and knew its terrain well. Although the trail could be rough, even disappearing in the underbrush from time to time, a ranger on horseback had little trouble following it. So Ren spurred his horse toward the river and rode as hard as the terrain would allow. Three days of riding brought him to the Dragonspine Mountains. A swift brook rushed and gurgled with the heavy rain that had hit the region for the last month.
Two days later, the brook linked up with the Stojanow River. It, too, was a rushing torrent, swollen with the heavy rains. Ren and his horse pressed along the muddy banks, through day after day of rain and gray skies. Yet after all those weeks of tracking and ambushing orcs, he was relieved to be traveling the wilderness without clear and present danger.
The river slowly curved and weaved to the south, and would eventually empty into the Moonsea. Phlan would be perched in its familiar crook at the end of the river.
As Ren rode the river trail, he remembered traveling this way ten years ago. Back then, this had been a favorite route for the many ogre and orc armies trying to wrest Phlan from the merchants of the city. Humans avoided the river at all costs.
In the days when the river had been overrun by monster armies, the water had been a polluted syrup. Vegetation for hundreds of yards on either side withered and died at the river’s touch and from the stench that arose from the pollution. Not a single fish, tadpole, or weed lived in the water. But the recovery the river had made since that horrible time was incredible. Now the water was alive with fish, birds, frogs, and snakes.
A few more days down the river put Ren halfway to Phlan. As he rode over a rise, he sighted Sorcerer’s Island in the distance. He rode down the hill toward the edge of the water. The island used to stick out like a cancerous growth. Happily, the land had completely renewed itself. Fish now jumped in the clear water, white birches and small pines grew all around, and many muskrat warrens were visible at the water’s edge.
A silver pyramid that had once been the evil sorcerer’s stronghold stood in the center of the island. It was ugly and out of place, but no longer pumped foul poisons into the river. In fact, the pyramid was heavily overgrown with vines and weeds.
Ren patted his horse’s neck as he gazed at the island. “That was quite a battle, Stolen, old boy. It was the three of us against the evil, crazed wizard. We depended heavily on Shal in that fight, because it takes a wizard to fight a wizard. But Tarl and I were at her back, and by the gods, no monster harmed her that day. What a tussle the three of us had. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be slimed by a six-foot-tall frog with teeth.”
Ren dismounted and led the horse to the edge of the water so it could drink its fill. He still hesitated at letting himself drink from the lake. The image of that once sulphurous quagmire was burned deeply in his memory.
The ranger opened his saddlebags and took out a couple of apples for himself and his steed. He knew he spoiled the huge gray horse terribly, but war-horses didn’t live long, and Ren especially liked this one.
“Stolen, those were some of the best days of my life. Even though Shal, Tarl, and I put ourselves through tremendous risks, we knew we were doing the right thing. The wizard living in that silver monstrosity was experimenting with life and death and creating the most abominable, deformed monsters. As a result of his experiments, poison was being dumped into the river so his monsters could swim downstream and take over all the cities on the Moonsea. Shal, Tarl, and I came up from Phlan to find out what was causing the pollution and the influx of hellish creatures. When we encountered the mage, we knew right away he was evil and crazy. We fought and killed him and finally burned his tower.”
Ren waved his arms as he told the story to his horse, but the anima
l was more interested in the apples in its master’s hand. Ren laughed and held out the apple, and Stolen snatched it away.
“Right, boy, you don’t care about wizards and poisoned rivers. All you care about is a good fight and an even better dinner. But seeing this river makes me remember. Back then, I worried whether my life was going in the right direction. Now I know I did the right thing.
“Maybe I’ve been worried for nothing. Shal, Tarl, and I are going to have a good laugh over those dreams I had and then I can get back to my valley. Let’s hurry to Phlan. It should be only two days from here.”
Ren swung onto Stolen’s back, feeling much better about the journey. He was looking forward to seeing Tarl and Shal; it had been too long since he’d visited them. He shouldn’t have let a stupid dream worry him so much. He knew people whose dreams foretold the future, but never in his life had he been prescient.
Just the other night, Ren had been startled by another nightmare, this one about pit fiends, abishai, erinyes, and a huge red tower. He knew such fiends existed, but he also knew that such creatures rarely, if ever, made an alliance. Ren had decided it was probably his imagination or something he ate.
As they moved along the trail, Stolen sensed his master’s urgency and pushed himself hard. Ren hardly had to encourage him. They traveled all day and well into the night, then camped and started early the following day. They didn’t quite make it to Phlan by nightfall, but riding along the river in the dark, the ranger could make out the lights of the city far in the distance. He made camp, cleaned himself and his gear, and gave Stolen a hearty brushing. He wouldn’t allow himself to show up on Shal and Tarl’s doorstep looking like a hobo. Ren wasn’t prideful about his appearance, but he liked to be clean.
His thoughts again drifted to the old days. Years ago, he’d briefly thought of asking Shal to be his wife. He didn’t begrudge Tarl his luck, but Ren wished that things might have gone a little differently. More and more, he found himself wishing for someone to share his life. But he realized that Shal wasn’t the woman for him. She reminded him far too much of Tempest, and he would never have been sure whether he married Shal out of love for her or as a surrogate for Tempest.
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